Raising The Stakes
by dS-Tiff
Summary: Christmas Eve is almost over and as Happy and Toby try to come to terms with Walter's near-death experience, Happy begins to realise that her husband's troubling past causes him more torment than she knew. Quintis fluff, light angst, post-S04E12 - "A Christmas Car-roll".


**_This is set immediately after the episode "A Christmas Car-roll". This is the third post-ep 'one-shot' I've written relating to this particular episode, so I guess I found it quite inspirational! I love trying to get into the heads of the characters and I've been thinking about Toby and Happy a lot lately, so I wrote this. It's a tiny bit angsty, but there's plenty of Quintis fluff there too. I hope you all enjoy it. All comments welcome, thank you kindly!_**

 **Raising The Stakes**

"Do you want coffee, Doc?" Happy pulled off her boots as she spoke and flung her jacket over the back of a chair.

Toby shut the front door behind him and shook his head. "No thanks, fluffykins, I think a stimulant would be a bad idea right now."

It had been a long and emotional day and they were both exhausted. Just hours earlier Walter O'Brien's life had been hanging in the balance and it had taken the combined genius of Team Scorpion to keep him alive. Now Mr and Mrs Quinn-Curtis were finally home, their Christmas plans in tatters and Toby couldn't wait to climb into bed with his wife and put Christmas Eve 2017 behind him. He already knew sleep would be hard to come by tonight though.

"I've got the munchies," announced Happy. "Do you want popcorn? I'll go make some."

Toby nodded and smiled. He didn't really feel like eating anything, but he knew Happy was an occasional comfort eater and he didn't want to stop her finding comfort this evening. He exhaled heavily and slumped down onto the sofa while she went to the kitchen.

Toby heard her rummaging in the cupboard for a bowl followed by the distinct rustling noise of her opening a packet of popcorn, but that was about all he remembered before his eyes became heavy and eventually drifted shut.

"I think I made too much… oh," Happy stopped dead in her tracks a few minutes later as she returned to see her husband slumped against a cushion, snoring lightly. She put down the huge bowl of popcorn she was carrying and carefully joined him on the sofa. She didn't want to wake him, he looked peaceful enough, if a little uncomfortable with one leg tucked under the other. It was definitely the most relaxed she'd seen him all day.

She gently rested her head on his chest and quickly synchronised her breathing with his. It was something she'd found herself doing soon after they'd got together and she loved how it calmed her. She assumed Toby was aware that she did it, but to his credit he'd never mentioned it, knowing that it was something that did not need analysing. To Happy, it signified their unified love for each other, their bond. They were as one. They were Quintis.

She chuckled to herself as she remembered the first time Toby had used that name for them and how she could have throttled him back then for inventing it.

" _What's a Quintis?"_ Paige had asked.

Happy had quickly realised, of course, that his over-elaborate public announcement of their relationship had been designed to push Walter's buttons, to force him to accept that they were a couple and that they had no intention of leaving Scorpion despite the objections of their boss. She had tried to stop him, worried that Toby was going to push Walter too far. Now, as she reminisced, that moment always brought a smile to her face as she recalled the looks on the faces of their friends and she couldn't have been prouder of Toby who had been willing to risk everything for her and for their love.

Happy placed a loving hand on Toby's chest and snuggled in a little closer as he slept. They stayed like that for a few minutes and Happy could feel her own eyelids drooping, but before she could fall asleep Toby stirred with a snort.

"Hey," she said. "Shall we just go to bed?"

But he didn't respond, his eyes were still firmly closed. Happy smiled, she would let him rest for a little while longer, she decided.

However, a few seconds later Toby's body shuddered again and he let out another incomprehensible noise, followed by what Happy could only describe as a loud a moan.

"Doc, you OK?" she asked him, slightly concerned. In all the time they'd been sleeping side by side she'd never heard him make a noise like that, not in his sleep, at least. "Toby?" she tried again. She wondered if his folded leg had gone numb, mentally chastising herself for not moving it for him when she'd had the chance.

Toby flinched and involuntarily flung his arm in the air, letting out another noise, this time more of a yelp. Sweat had started to bead at his temples and his breathing had become rapid.

"Doc! Toby! Wake up!" Happy's voice was more urgent now. She couldn't bear to watch him suffer, even if it was only in his mind. "You're dreaming," she added, stating the obvious as she shook him by the shoulder.

Toby's eyes flickered open and locked onto Happy's face, although she could tell he wasn't focussing.

"Toby, it's OK," she said in her most reassuring voice. She nervously reached out to touch the side of his face, unsure if the sudden sensation would startle him. He didn't flinch, though, much to her relief and recognition began to return to his eyes. "Are you back with me?" she asked. All he could do was nod silently as he fought to slow his breathing. Happy smiled. "That was one hell of a ride," she noted. "What kind of weird crap were you dreaming about?"

Toby closed his eyes. "I… I don't know," he replied. He wiped the sweat from his brow. "How long was I asleep?"

"Twenty minutes, maybe," replied Happy. "Sorry I'm not Sly, or I could give you a more accurate answer."

"As much as I love the Sly-Dog, I'd rather wake to find you snuggled against me after a nightmare," Toby noted with a wink.

Happy stared at him for a moment. The quip was pure Toby, but his eyes weren't quite right. "You know, if our roles were reversed right now you'd be pushing me to talk," she observed.

Toby shrugged. "It was just a dream," he replied. He leaned down and captured her lips in his, kissing her with an intensity which took her by surprise. For a second she responded to him, allowing the sensation of his love to wash over her, but then she forced herself to break away. "Hey!" he objected.

"I know what you're doing," she said, sitting up straight and staring intently into his eyes. "This is basic shrink stuff. You're deflecting."

Toby's eyes widened, partly in surprise, but mostly with pride. "I taught you well, young Jedi," he joked.

Happy frowned. "Just tell me about the dream." She didn't see any point in dancing around the issue.

"I dreamt you threw out all your costumes," he replied. "Worst nightmare ever."

Happy scowled at him. "The truth, Doc, or I will burn all the stupid costumes. What was the damn dream about?"

Toby chuckled. "It's time for another lesson," he said. Happy tried to protest, but he continued. "The subject of the dream is not always the issue," he explained. "Dreaming is a way for the brain to process events the patient has experienced which they may not have had the opportunity, or inclination, to deal with during waking hours."

"So… this is about what happened to Walter today?" asked Happy, wondering if it was too obvious. "It all happened so fast, I haven't had time to process any of it myself yet."

Toby nodded and kissed her on the forehead. "I guess it must be," he admitted. "Today actually pushes last Christmas down one place in my list of Worst Christmases Ever and after what happened last year that takes some doing."

"Today wasn't the most fun I've ever had on Christmas Eve, that's for sure," nodded Happy. She closed her eyes momentarily and the image of Walter, lying on the floor of the garage in a pool of his own blood, flooded her mind. She shuddered and snapped her eyes open. "We… we could have lost him today," she half-whispered. No wonder her husband was having nightmares about it already. Suddenly she was a little afraid to allow sleep to take her tonight.

"Yeah," agreed Toby, uncharacteristically quiet. He pulled Happy close to him and her head found its way naturally to his chest again. They sat in silence for a few minutes, Happy using her breathing synchronisation technique for the second time that evening. "But we didn't," he added eventually.

Happy pulled away slightly so she could look at him. "Don't let this go to your head, Doc, but… you were incredible today," she said. "I know we gave Flo the credit for raising the alarm, but you saved him. Walt would be dead if it wasn't for you."

"Me?" queried Toby. "I don't remember being the one performing cranial surgery," he noted. Those few minutes in the garage while they'd waited for the ambulance to arrive had felt as though they'd lasted forever, yet at the same time they had passed in a blur. Part of him still couldn't quite believe Happy had followed his instructions without question and yet the other part of him knew that she would have done anything to save Walter today. He kissed her temple tenderly. "I'm so proud of you," he whispered.

"Just being a good wife, doing what my husband told me to do," replied Happy, dryly.

"Great!" exclaimed Toby. "So you're gonna start washing my socks and bringing me breakfast in bed now?"

Happy scowled at him.

"It was worth a try," shrugged Toby.

"Can we get back to this dream?" suggested Happy. "I get why you're freaked about what happened today, I think we all are, but..." she trailed off any screwed up her nose a little while she wished she had even half her husband's behaviourist skills. "You were quiet on the ride home and now this dream. There's something you're not telling me."

"I love you," replied Toby. "And I'm not deflecting again, I just wanted to say that to you because, well, because I love you and I love telling you that I love you and…"

"Doc, shut up," Happy interrupted him. "What's going on in that crazy head of yours?"

Toby winked. "Do you really wanna know?" he grinned seductively.

"Quit fooling around," ordered Happy. "It's nearly tomorrow, Christmas Day, and I'd quite like to get some sleep so you'd better start talking in the next thirty seconds, Doc, or I'll have to think of some other way to get you to spill."

"OK, OK," Toby paused, took a deep breath before speaking again. "Thing is, I'm a shrink. It's what I've dedicated my life to and I'm good at it, goddam good at it. Yes, I went to med school…"

"Harvard," Happy added, before he had a chance to say it himself.

"Harvard," agreed Toby. "And yes, I was top of all my classes and I'm a genius, so I could have chosen to specialise in emergency medicine, cardiology, oncology, pathology, anything I wanted, but…" he trailed off.

"But you chose psychiatry for a reason," Happy finished his sentence for him, surprising herself almost as much as she surprised her husband by hitting the proverbial nail on the head.

Toby stroked her hair tenderly, unable to verbalise a response for a moment. It was true he could have gone into any field of medicine he wanted to. Indeed, several top medical facilities had tried to recruit him as soon as he'd graduated, but he had only ever wanted to be the best psychiatrist in the world. "My mom," he whispered eventually.

Happy hugged him tightly. "I know," she replied. Toby rarely spoke about his mother and Happy knew how hard it was for him to even mention her. She understood why Toby had chosen the career path he had, but she couldn't help feeling there was something else that had been part of his decision too. She felt she was close to finding out now though, but wasn't sure if tonight was a good time to push him any further.

"It's OK, you can ask me," Toby said suddenly and Happy let out a shuddery breath she hadn't even been aware she'd been holding in.

Of course he would have worked out what she was thinking, just like he always did.

"I love that you've figured out this much, by the way," continued Toby. "I guess there are things about me that you still don't know. You do realise that if we talk about this now, you have to tell me everything that happened in Portugal."

Happy slapped him on the arm. "Don't even go there, Doc," she warned. Then her expression softened. "OK, why?" she asked. "I get that you wanted to help your Mom, but you could've specialised in two fields, maybe more?"

Toby shook his head. "You've seen me when we're in life or death situations, I panic," he admitted.

"You mean when your voice gets higher than Paige's and you flap your hands in that dumb-ass way?" asked Happy. She'd wanted to say _"…in that really cute way,"_ but she thought better of it. "Come on, Toby, you know if you were practising emergency trauma surgery every day it would be different."

"I could never be a surgeon, I'd have to take the hat off," replied Toby with a wink.

Happy rolled her eyes.

"OK, OK, you really want to know?" asked Toby. Happy nodded silently and Toby took a breath before continuing. "When we saved Cabe, when we repaired his aorta in the desert, his chances of actually surviving were less than five per cent."

"I know, but we did it we saved him," said Happy.

"We did," agreed Toby. "But… but back when I was gambling, even at the darkest depths of my addiction, I wouldn't have put five bucks on a game with odds that low."

Happy's eyes widened in disbelief. "Really?"

"Well, maybe five bucks," Toby acknowledged. "But not fifty. The point is it was a gamble. Just like when we made that artificial uterus for Jane Doe's premature fawn. We threw that plan together in minutes, there was definitely some _womb_ for improvement..."

"Don't you dare start on that crap again!" exclaimed Happy.

"Sorry my sweetness. What I'm trying to say is I weighed up the odds of that little fawn surviving and made the decision to go ahead with our plan," continued Toby.

"You've just used the word 'gamble' and talked about 'weighing up the odds'," noted Happy. Things were starting to make sense in her mind now and she suddenly felt an even deeper sense of Toby's inner turmoil.

"Got it in one, darlin'," nodded Toby. "I'm an addict, I always will be. I took a gamble today and it paid off, but I can't allow myself to fall back into that trap."

"Today wasn't the same as you sitting around a poker table with Big Phil and his pals," retorted Happy. "You saved a life today. You saved Walter's life."

"But if the procedure hadn't been successful…" began Toby, leaving the sentence unfinished. "I was using guesswork… Harvard educated guesswork, but still… I had to make a decision. We could've done nothing and waited for the ambulance."

"But he'd be dead."

"Probably. Who knows?"

"You do," replied Happy, sternly. "You made the right choice."

"Maybe, but then I realised his heart, in typical Walter O'Brien style, was gonna stubbornly refuse to slow down fast enough."

"If Sly hadn't helped you with that?"

"Ninety eight percent chance Walt would've gone into cardiac arrest," Toby explained. "And with the existing neurological trauma there's no way…" he trailed off, not wanting to say the words out loud. "Then he developed the pulmonary oedema," Toby continued after a moment of silence. "I was busy weighing up odds again when the ambulance arrived. There was an eighty seven percent chance he would've suffocated in the next two minutes unless we could've found a way to drain the fluid from his lungs."

"We'd have found a way," Happy replied. "A wild, crazy, Scorpion way."

Toby hugged Happy again. "For Walt, yes we would," he replied. "But, I just can't go raising the stakes like that every day. I can't. I'd get the same buzz around an operating table as I do around a craps table. It would be so easy to make risky decisions with crazy odds if I thought there was a chance I could keep someone alive. But I can't afford to start taking those chances again, Happy. Not now. Not ever. Do you understand?"

Happy held him tightly and mumbled an affirmative response into his chest. She understood completely and the last thing she wanted was for him to trigger his gambling addiction, or for him to replace it with an equally dangerous, if not more dangerous, alternative.

Toby's skills were such an important part of the work Scorpion did and Happy was well aware that his medical skills in particular had been called upon more and more recently as their missions seemed to get more dangerous. She knew he was terrified in those situations – they all were – but she hadn't made the connection before with the addictive side of his personality. It made perfect sense though. She felt that rush of adrenaline herself when they were making split second, life or death, decisions - usually while falling out of the sky in a crippled plane, or trapped at the bottom of the ocean in a dead submarine - and she could see how that rush could become addictive if you let it.

Happy made a mental note to keep a closer eye on her husband in future just in case he needed her support, just in case she ever had to pull him back from the edge. "I love you," she said. She couldn't think of anything else to say, but he seemed to understand the deeper meaning behind the romantic declaration.

"Oh, look, it's past midnight!" exclaimed Toby suddenly. "Merry Christmas, darlin'." He kissed her on the forehead before extracting his arm from around her shoulders and leaping to his feet. "I'll get your Christmas present. Just give me a minute." He went to his bag and pulled out his tablet.

"I suppose you want yours too," replied Happy, reaching over to the coffee table and getting her laptop.

The next five minutes passed in silence, save for the mutual tapping of keyboard keys. Toby was the first to speak. "Check your emails," he said with a grin as he perched on the edge of the table.

Happy looked at him suspiciously. "You check yours first," she said.

Toby shrugged. "OK," he said and he took a moment to read the email that had just appeared. "Two seats from my old high school baseball field!" he exclaimed. "How did you know? I don't think I've ever told anyone how much that place means to me…" his voice hitched. "Wait, maybe I mentioned it to Walter once, years ago."

"Lucky guess," lied Happy. Then it was her turn to open her emails and her face lit up. It took her a few seconds to compose herself before she could speak. "Toby, an hour of track time at the San Dimus Raceway! I... I've always wanted to do that!" She flung her arms around him and pulled him back onto the sofa. She wanted to be as close to him today as she could possibly be, she didn't want to let him go. She quickly found herself synchronising her breathing with his again as they slumped against the cushions.

The exchanging of gifts had provided a temporary break from the conversation they'd been having, but Happy's thoughts quickly returned to Walter's accident and Toby's admission. Happy had always assumed she was the most emotionally damaged out of the two of them, not Toby. She knew Toby had baggage, of course - from his childhood, his ex-fiancé and his addiction – and she knew he put on a front when he was with Walter and the team that wasn't there when it was just the two of them at home, but she was beginning to realise there were even more layers to her husband than she had previously thought.

"Hey, don't worry about me," said Toby, suddenly.

Happy couldn't help smiling at his words. How could he possibly know what she was thinking? She was just lying there in his arms, breathing. What markers could he possibly have picked up from her? She would never understand how he did it.

"I'll worry about you if I want to," she insisted. "We should talk about, y'know, this kinda thing more often. Deal?"

"I'm all over that, talking is what I do best," replied Toby. He let out a long, slow breath.

"You OK?" she asked him. She rested her hand over his heart, drawing in the sensation of the regular beating and allowing the rhythm to centre her thoughts.

"Just pooped, that's all," Toby answered. He covered her hand with his and squeezed it gently and Happy could feel the love that flowed between them.

"I love you," she whispered.

"I love you too," he answered. "Thank you for putting up with me. You deserve better."

"Don't," she snapped, pulling away from his arms. "I don't want to hear that kinda crap from you, got it? That's not who you are."

"I could tell you a joke about pizza instead?" offered Toby, the sparkle suddenly back in his eyes. "But it's a little cheesy."

Happy shook her head in dispair and laid her head back on his chest. "Just shut up, dumb-ass, and hold me."

THE END.


End file.
